"Every word true, 'pon my honor," repeated Mr. Carrack.
The great burst was renewed.
"It was a capital idea, wasn't it?" he said again, supposing he had made a great hit.
The explosion for the third time, but softened a little by pity in the female section of the chorus.
Mrs. Carrack had sat stately and aloof, with an inkling in her brain that all this mirthful tumult was not entirely in the nature of a complimentary tribute to her son.
"I think," she said, with haughty severity of aspect, "my son was perfectly right. It was a sinful and a wicked adventure at the best, as the Reverend Strawbery Hyson clearly showed from the fourth Revelations, in his last annual discourse to the young ladies of the church."
"He did, so he did," said Mr. Tiffany, stroking his chin, "I remember perfectly: it was very prettily stated by Hyson."
"The Reverend Strawbery Hyson," said Mrs. Carrack. "Always give that excellent man his full title. What would you say, my son, if he should appear in the streets without his black coat and white cravat? Would you have any confidence in his preaching after that?"
"Next to myself," answered Mr. Tiffany, "I think our parson's the best-dressed man in Boston."
"He should be, as an example," said Mrs. Carrack. "He has a very genteel congregation."